At the beginning of the season Stockholm had held concerns about how he and Coelacanth would fare, and where they would go. This land was unfamiliar to him and he was uncertain of what to expect from the weather and availability of prey animals. He would be the first one to admit that his time spent amongst humans had made him soft. But the winter hardened him, thickened his coat, trained his senses to the wilderness again.
The air still held a harsh chill, but his internal clock told him that they were on the upswing – the days were growing longer, and before too long the weather would warm, the snow would recede. It was only a matter of time before they crossed the ocean again back to the island; their island.
He watched Seelie as she dashed ahead of him, frolicking in the powdery snow. Sometimes he wondered where she got all that energy from. She was like a perpetual motion machine, taking twice as many steps as he did in a day. And though a good portion of his focus remains on her and her antics, he never completely lets his guard down, always aware of his surroundings – which is how he catches a distantly familiar scent carried on the cool breeze.
The Gampr pauses, draws in another breath and gives a soft chuff to Seelie to draw her attention. He knew that scent, didn’t he? He sweeps his gaze across the broad expanse of the pasture and the turning gears in his head click into place when he spots the brilliant red coat in the distance. Hemlock. He did not know her well, they never really had a chance to become acquainted, but he remembered her and her family coming across from the mainland to seek refuge on the shores of Wheeling Gull Island.
One of the many individuals he wondered about, worried about how things had turned out for them when he and Seelie returned to find the island empty. So without hesitation, he plows through the snow to cross the clearing to greet her, “Hemlock!”
The Gampr’s tail sweeps back and forth at her recognition. It does his heart good to see that she looks well, and if scent is anything to go by she is with others, including her young ones. He had feared the worst for all of the seawolves for a long time, and laid that blame and guilt solely upon himself. But layer by layer he was shedding that heavy weight upon his shoulders.
“Oh, well – we’re seeing how far we have to walk before Seelie turns completely into a snowball.” He flashes her a grin and flicks his gaze to Seelie; it was admittedly amusing the way the snow seemed to cling to her feathery fur in little snowballs. It was worse on the warmer days when the sun shone, making the snow particularly sticky. Today was cooler, and the snow was more powdery than anything and less likely to cling to her, but he still thought it was a good joke.
He doesn’t miss the pleading look the sheepdog casts his way, but first things first. “How are you? Your family…?”
Stockholm is silently pleased that his quip garners a small smile from Hemlock and the wrinkle of Seelie’s muzzle, and he has to fight to keep a straight face when Seelie scoops up a mouthful of snow to send in his general direction – pointedly ignoring the gesture just to see how far she will escalate. This was fun.
His ears perk when Hemlock mentions returning to the island without either of them having to prompt it. He tends not to put much regard into the notion of gods or fate, but this is one of those moments that does kind of stick out with an inclination towards ‘meant to be’. “We are planning the same once we reach the coast, you and your family are more than welcome to travel with us. It would be an honor to have you all back on the island.”
Stockholm is immensely pleased by the minor tantrum Seelie throws, the stamping of her feet into the snow particularly amusing to the Gampr. Oh, he’ll pay for this later, he is sure. But it will be well worth it.
He watches the exchange between Hemlock and Seelie with a soft smile, and when Hemlock asks if they should gather the children or meet up later his answer is automatic; “Let’s go get them, we can go together. I’m sure they have some great tales to tell.” He is, after all, a guardian at heart. He would much rather escort the family to the island shores himself than leave them. Though it is obvious they have done well on their own, and there is no greater protector than a mother to her children, it is just in his instinct to look after others. “They must be growing like weeds at this stage, hm?” He doesn’t have a ton of experience with puppies, but he does find them enjoyable, and he finds himself looking forward to meeting them. He lets Hemlock lead the way, casting a look at Seelie and giving her a playful grin.